


Smoke

by BleedingCoffee



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Jean/Roy, M/M, fraternization at it's best, glorious abs, implied sex, no galloping abs, oh how I wish I could draw this instead of having to write it out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-09-01 12:54:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16765567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BleedingCoffee/pseuds/BleedingCoffee
Summary: Jean/Roy drabble.   Jean contemplates the man in his bed as he enjoys a cigarette by the window.





	Smoke

* * *

Jean Havoc wasn't typically the kind of man who would stand by the window and contemplate novelizing his sexual experiences, but Roy Mustang made him understand why nights like this would be written about and preserved for the ages. 

It was a hot August night made worse because they were in the city surrounded by brick and mortar. He stood by the open window hoping get a bit of air, hoping it was a bit cooler outside than in his small apartment. It was 0100 and they're both covered in sweat and too sticky to even want to go take a shower before cooling off. They use Jean's apartment because nobody would think to watch his place, but he's barely able to afford rent more or less somewhere with air conditioning, so when it's time to cool off and the sheets are too damp to tolerate, Jean goes to the window and stands beside the curtain and lets the evening breeze blow over him. He wonders if this is what Roy is doing as he lay sprawled on the bed, replaying what they just did so he could relive it later. 

He taps the cigarette carton on his palm and a lone stick falls out. He puts the carton down and picks up his lighter, a quick flick of his thumb and a flame is produced. He wets his lips and places the cigarette on them, raising the lighter to the end to bring it all to life. It's a practiced action and requires no thought, which allows his thoughts to wander to earlier when his lips where on another addiction of his. One that would probably kill him in the long run but he planned to enjoy every chance he got. Actions were quite similar now that he thought about it. 

Jean leans against the window frame and puffs on the cigarette to savor it all. Storm is coming in from the west and he watches the lighting in the distance as he takes another drag and feels the heat of another body beside him. He doesn't want to stare, but god does Roy look fucking gorgeous in the moonlight; hair tussled and sticking to his face, sweat glistening on his skin, fucking abs that God himself must have carved into him. Jean holds his breath as a hand comes up and takes his cigarette and he lets his lips part to release it, then sucks in a breath as Roy claims it as his own. He never stops being breathtaking, Jean hopes he never will.

Roy never allows himself too much time to smoke, just a minute to take a deep breath and an even more exaggerated exhale. Jean wonders if he fears the nicotine addiction or if he just likes denying himself the pleasure. Roy was like that. He came here when it became a need, never any less. Jean lifts his hand as Roy hands it back. He's never asked when he started or when he quit, just admired his strength for being able to just have a taste and let it go. The curtains billow around Roy as another gust of wind picks up, and Jean wants to curse him out for beings so fucking dramatic. _Always_. However there are no words that can leave his throat because it gets tight and there is no energy in him to drag the bastard back to bed and show him what he makes him feel, so he leans back against the window frame and just takes it all in. 

He doubts there are words in his vocabulary or even in existence that can describe Roy Mustang right now. 

Roy gives him a smirk, not that smug as shit look he has at work, but a 'come join me' smile. He turns, runs his hand through his hair and walks away, moonlight spilling over his backside as he disappears into the bathroom for a shower. Jean closes his eyes. There isn't enough room for two in that shower, which is probably his plan. He listens as the water pipes rattle and the shower head screams from steam of warm water. Thunder rolls outside and he crushes his cigarette out of existence before he's finished with it. There's something far better for him waiting in the shower.


End file.
